Wayward Magic
by caro.llin
Summary: When Hogwarts reopens after the war, the Headmistress's magic starts to misbehave. Would it have anything to do with Miss Granger? MM/HG. Slowburn-ish.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes at the end of the chapter**

* * *

"Oh, for Merlin's beard!"

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, pursed her lips annoyed as wood splinters tickled her skin. Her magic had manifested itself during her sleep – again – and her bedroom was in shambles. She waved her hand to get rid of the remnants of her cracked headboard and stood carefully on barefoot to observe the overall damage.

There were shards of glass littering the floor in front of the windows, now reduced to its frames. The cold wind that blew through the room swept the torn pages of the books that had fallen from the shelves. Several vials had been shattered and its contents leaked down the potions cabinet forming a multicolored puddle on the floor.

"So it's getting worse", the witch mumbled to herself, still half-asleep. That wasn't the first time she had woken up in the middle of the night due to an involuntary burst of magic – that had been two weeks ago. Back then, the Headmistress had dismissed the issue as an annoyance, a result of being overworked and still in recovery from the war. However, none of the previous occurrences had been like that little explosion. She had been able to hide the effects of her wayward magic before, but the shattered windows were bound to draw attention. As expected, not three seconds later she heard frantic knocks on the door to her living room, followed by the concerned voice of her deputy.

"Minerva! Are you alright?"

"Yes, Filius, I am fine, just give me a second." She quickly rescued a robe from the mess and went for the door, which she opened just a few inches, enough to see the tip of a wand, and right behind that the short Charms professor. Also with her wand drawn was Rolanda, who was trying her best to look inside the quarters.

"We felt a shift in the wards coming from here and the portraits are talking about a tremor! What's happening?"

 _My magic has a mind of its own now and it's doing odd things in the night._

"I was brewing a potion and it went awry, I am sorry for disturbing you" – Minerva said with an impassible face, at what Rolanda expressed her suspicion with everything but words. Filius made no movement to lower his wand as he asked with a concerned voice and a meaningful look, "Are you _sure_ you don't need any help?"

The Headmistress thought for a second and sighed, opening the door further so they could enter and check the bedroom. The war had ended months ago but some Death Eaters had managed to escape and the fear still lingered. It was better to put her colleagues at ease and show them she was not being attacked or kept hostage in any way.

A squeak alerted them to the arrival of Pomona, who stared wide eyed to the room in shambles.

"Minnie, what happened, dear?"

"She was just having a go at potion making" – Rolanda interrupted, her eyes never leaving Minerva. The flying instructor could be very inquisitive when she wanted to but the Headmistress kept the façade without a flinch.

"Oh, Minnie, you were never a good brewer anyway" – Pomona conceded, looking sympathetic.

After some more reassurances, the professors went back to their rooms. Minerva leaned against the closed door, looked at all the shards and glass in her bedroom and thought that her little annoyance had developed into a problem. She also thought that she really should brew some Sleeping Draught.

The next morning found a moody Minerva pushing food around her plate at breakfast. She hadn't gone back to sleep for fear of a reprise performance of her unruly magic and so the witch had spent the few hours until dawn repairing her bedroom and thinking of what could be the cause of her issues but nothing came to mind. The Headmistress gave up on her toast and reached for a cup of tea, but before she could grab it, her fingers started to tingle. Minerva looked at her right hand and a shiver of dread ran down her spine.

 _Not here, please._

The tingles intensified and spread to her forearm and Minerva could tell that her magic was reacting to something, but what? The wards had not been disturbed, could it be that an intruder had trespassed undetected?

She perused the Great Hall looking for something amiss but everything seemed to be in order. The professors were acting like their usual selves. The students, who had started the school year wary and mournful after the Battle of Hogwarts, were slowly warming up to the grounds again and were having animated conversations at their respective tables.

The Headmistress now felt as if an electrical current was coursing through her entire arm and decided it best to take her leave. As she stood up her eyes caught a dash of blue contrasting with the sea of red that was the Gryffindor table. Her brain subconsciously noticed that the young man donning the Ravenclaw scarf was a 7th year that had come back to finish his studies after the war. Her mind blatantly acknowledged that the Ravenclaw seemed to be having a very interesting talk with a brunette young woman. A brunette young woman with somewhat frizzy locks.

 _Miss Granger._

Minerva felt an acute pain course through her right side and the next thing she saw was the young man landing on the Slytherin table after being sent flying through the air by an invisible force.

The Headmistress was appalled. Her colleagues rushed to aid the 7th year but she remained rooted to the spot. Strangely enough, nobody seemed to notice that she was responsible for Mr. Anderson flight excursion. The pain in her arm had subsided but she didn't notice, for she had gone numb. The only thing the witch was able to feel was a pair of eyes boring through her. When she searched for the source of the stare, she found a dumbfounded Miss Granger looking straight at her, a clear question shining in the student's eyes.

 _She knows all right who caused this._

Filius came to her but his words were muffled by Minerva's spiraling thoughts, the loudest one being:

 _What is happening with me, for Merlin's sake?_

* * *

 **Author's notes** : Hello! This is my first MM/HG fic as well as my first multichapter fic, so let's see where this will go.

If you spot any grammar errors or misspelling just warn me and I'll fix it (I tried my best but I'm not a native English speaker).

Hope you enjoyed it; see you on the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: It took longer than I anticipated, but here is Chapter 2. For all those who read, favorited, followed and took the time to review, thank you!**

* * *

The pumpkin juice clung to the walls of the golden goblet as the liquid sloshed around inside the drinkware. Hermione remembered her father saying that the way the wine clings to the sides of a glass is indicative of something, but she couldn't remember of what. She hoped he and her mother were enjoying the Australian wines. She also hoped William would stop talking.

"And it was really hard for all of us. After the first three months I thought I was going crazy, but it was just two months after that that my father managed to take us to France."

Hermione sloshed some juice onto the tablecloth at hearing that.

"I cannot imagine what it would be like to spend five months in your family's country estate waiting for the war to end", she retorted, but William just went on.

"Yeah, that's why I'm saying that you can come to me if you need someone to talk to."

She couldn't believe he'd had the audacity to say that, and this time he noticed it.

"I mean, I know it was nothing like what you went through with Potter and Weasley, but since they're not here…" – he slid a few inches closer to her, his voice lower and a little pitying – "I think we could become good friends."

The young witch didn't know what to make of that comment as William Anderson just sat there smiling and waiting for her to accept his offer. She opened her mouth to say that no, not in this life, thank you, but the boy disappeared from his spot at the table. Hermione just stood there, open mouthed, with goosebumps all over her body as a gust of magic swirled around her. It was frantic, eager and demanding but in the millisecond before it vanished Hermione felt as if a balm had washed over her, soothing and familiar.

Those sensations lasted only a moment, just enough time for William to land with a loud crash on a nearby table, but it was sufficient for Hermione to identify their source. She searched for it and found Professor McGonagall standing in front of her high back chair, about to pass out. Hermione could not understand why her professor would do something like that, but when their eyes met, it was clear that neither could the Headmistress.

Around both witches, the moods were getting agitated. A bunch of irritated Slytherins shoved William off from over their food, the teachers were concerned and the Ravenclaws got all ruffled up on the other side of the Great Hall. Hermione knew for a fact that Professor McGonagall would never intentionally harm a student, so when Professor Flitwick started to search for the responsible she could not let the Headmistress get into trouble before knowing what was going on.

"I'm so sorry, William! I don't know how that happened. Are you alright?"

The boy in question looked at a very worried Hermione, who was putting on a show of helping wipe porridge off his robes. Guilty clouded her eyes and the hand wringing added a nice touch to her performance.

"You did it?!", William asked confused and angry as he dabbed a stain of jelly from his tie.

"I must have been fumbling with my wand, it's behaving strangely since the war, it wasn't my intention to harm you…", she said loud enough for anyone in a mile radius to listen.

"I'm…" – Hermione was dusting crumbs from his black hair now – "I'm fine, Hermione." The young man took a couple steps back from the Gryffindor. He was calmer when he resumed talking. "It was nothing serious. I think you might be out of sorts after the war, maybe you need some time to adjust."

William took notice that all eyes in the Great Hall were pointed at the both of them. "I better be going", and with a small smile that looked more like a grimace he walked back to his house table.

When he was gone, Hermione shot apologetic glances to her colleagues and professors and resumed eating in the hopes that people would let the incident slide. She swallowed the rest of her breakfast as fast as she could and bolted for the double doors. Not once did she look at Professor McGonagall on her way out for fear of having overstepped the line and upset the witch.

As was always the case in Hogwarts, the news of her little magical stumble were already making the rounds in the castle when the brunette set foot out of the Great Hall. The young witch could notice the stares and hear people whispering as she strode through the corridors to her first class of the day. She was so intent on haughtily ignoring her peers that it took her a few seconds to notice the tickling sensation on the back of her right hand.

When she finally looked down at it, she saw a tiny green butterfly resting there. The little creature was beautiful; its wings sparkled as if made of gemstone and Hermione watched in delight as the bug leisurely walked over her skin. When the butterfly reached the palm of her hand, it fluttered and transformed into an equally small piece of parchment.

Surprised at first, the Gryffindor smiled as she unfolded it to see a deep shade of green ink form an invitation in impressive cursive.

 _Would you meet me for tea this evening?_

"Yes, I will, Headmistress", she murmured to the stone corridor.

* * *

It felt like five years had passed before the evening arrived. It had been a day of answering questions about her wellbeing and reassuring her professors and friends that she would seek their help if something like the morning incident ever happened again. Neville even apologized for not noticing she was at a difficult time. He was the sweetest boy and Hermione felt bad for lying to him.

Shortly after dinner, the Gryffindor made her way to the Gargoyle Corridor. The old stone statue granted her entrance immediately and so she climbed the stairs to the wooden doors. At entering the office, the young woman found the Headmistress leant over a stack of papers, quill in hand, an air of tiredness about her. The war, the reconstruction of the school and the double role as Headmistress and Transfiguration professor had certainly taken its toll.

The witch lifted her head a second later and smiled at her guest. She wrote a quick note and vanished it somewhere, placed her quill next to the inkwell and got up from the desk to greet her student.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. I'm glad you could join me."

"Good evening, Headmistress."

Professor McGonagall motioned Hermione to a side of the circular room where a very comfortable looking pair of armchairs faced a coffee table. In her way there the young woman noticed how much more elegant and refined the office looked. Dumbledore's museum of knick-knacks had been replaced by hardwood and soft leather. Bookshelves covered every available surface on the walls and dashes of red and gold brought warmth to the room. The decor was tasteful, with the exception of a Montrose Magpies flag that clashed with everything else.

They took their seats and a moment later, a tea set appeared on the coffee table accompanied by a tray of biscuits. Minerva handed the young witch a steaming cup of tea and went straight to the point.

"Miss Granger, I'm sure you must have many questions, but before anything else I owe you an apology and a thank you."

Hermione tried to say there was no need for that, but Minerva halted her words with a raised hand.

"Thank you for saving me from a major embarrassment; and forgive me for allowing you to do so. It was inappropriate to let you take the blame for my actions but I was so astonished at the time I could not react properly. I cannot deny it saved me from a problematic situation with Mr. Anderson, his parents and the Board, though."

Hermione did not like the contrite expression on her professor's face as she talked, not in the least. It did not suit a witch so formidable.

"Professor McGonagall, I know you would never do something like that on purpose. What happened was out of your control, I can tell that" – the remembrance of the raw magic sliding over her skin made Hermione shiver – "I did what I thought was right. It would not be fair to let you be penalized by such a ludicrous accident. Not when you've been doing so much for the wizarding community."

Minerva smiled gratefully at that, her star student had always been so fiercely protective of others.

"I appreciate it, Miss Granger. I assure you I'm taking the necessary measures to prevent any more trouble." The Headmistress reached for her teacup then and lifted it to her lips, but stopped mid-movement and stared intently into Hermione's eyes. "But in the case something else does happen… please refrain from getting yourself into a tight spot again."

"With all due respect, Professor, I can't promise that", the Gryffindor answered with a smile and before Minerva could protest the young woman posed one of the many questions she did have.

"Do you have any idea of what may have caused that burst of magic this morning?"

"No, I don't, Miss Granger."

Minerva's lips thinned and she gripped her cup tighter as she continued.

"But it won't be long before I have an answer."

* * *

As soon as she stepped into the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was dragged to a corner by Ginny, who looked mock indignant.

"How could you send William flying without me there to watch it?"

"Ginny, that was an accident; I didn't intend to harm him."

"You really want me to believe that you couldn't control your wand? I bet you could wield the Elder Wand if you wanted to!"

"Gin, I can't quite explain what happened, but that really was not intentional."

The redhead wasn't much convinced, but decided to drop the matter. "It serves him right, anyway. How can he be so arrogant?"

"Forget about him and tell me about your practice."

Sometime later, just before falling asleep, Hermione wished her professor would be able to fix whatever was affecting her. For a couple days, it seemed the Headmistress had done just that, for everything went off without a hitch.

Then, a tabby cat decided it had other plans.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'm sorry it took so long. Here is Chapter 3 (and Chapter 4 is already on the making). Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

A feeling of distress made all the hairs on her body stand on end and put her senses on alert. Whatever was causing her skin to tingle had been strong enough to wake her up and propel her out of bed and into the corridors in a haze of urgency.

The uneasiness emanated in waves from the Quidditch pitch, so she ran there. Her perfect vision made easy to climb the stands, each leap bringing her closer to the familiar smells and angry voices of the pair talking. She got there in time to watch the end of the argument.

"That's bullshit! Stop making excuses."

The girl looked stunned at the yelling boy, and left. "Good" – she thought from under the seats – "She doesn't need to be here to see me teach this whinny lad proper manners". That was no way of treating her human.

She then proceeded to educationally hiss and barge into the redhead boy. Also, a didactical bite couldn't hurt.

"Get off me!"

Unfortunately, the boy didn't know how to take criticism and banished her over the railing like the petty child he was.

She could hear shouting and the rushing wind in her ears while she fell. The lad was an idiot, but she wasn't concerned, she always landed on her feet. She just needed for her body and the ground to get in the right angle. Yes, it was almost right, almost the…

Thud.

Oh, damn.

* * *

 _Earlier_

The Great Hall was buzzing that Saturday morning, which was unusual. That was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year and everybody was doing their best to swallow their breakfast without chewing, so as not to waste time.

Ginny ate one toast and washed it down with a goblet of juice before Hermione could spread jam on a bun. That was how much the chaser wanted to see Harry. Hermione, on the other hand, had no hurry to meet Ron at the Three Broomsticks. Their last encounter had been appalling and this one would hardly be better.

The brunette was eating faster than usual, for fear of Ginny's wrath should they get late, when in the middle of eating a slice of bacon the strip of meat was transformed into… ginger. She groaned and looked at once to the teachers' table. Headmistress McGonagall was having tea and chatting with professor Flitwick as if she hadn't given Hermione a horrible gustative experience. She would have to talk to the woman. She could deal with the charms during class, the odd gifts and the fur, but Minerva had to stop messing with her food. Hermione swallowed the ginger slice with effort, risked a sip of juice, which thankfully still tasted of pumpkin, and followed Ginny out of the Great Hall.

* * *

After breakfast, when most students were headed to Hogsmeade, a tabby version of Headmistress McGonagall stealthily followed the corridors that led to the Hospital Wing. Once there, she weaved her way around beds and cabinets until she got to Madam Pomfrey's office, where she reassumed her human form and set to wait for the mediwitch. The animagus used those moments of solitude to reflect on her situation. The previous night, like every other night in the last two weeks, she had delved into a pile of books and parchments looking for a clue, any clue, about her straying magic. And, like every other night in the last two weeks, she came up with nothing. There'd been mentions of misbehaving magic in some of those documents, of course, but she wasn't feeling sick nor had her lineage been cursed by a malefic leprechaun, though she could see how that could have ended. Astrological influences were for the likes of Sybil Trelawney and no, witches did not lose mastery of their magic with age, despite what that moron Mettenrick stated in that pseudoscientific article of his for the Wizarding Healing Institute journal. In fact, Minerva had sent an ill-mannered letter to the journal editor first thing in the morning asking how low the publication acceptance standards were.

Defeated in her search, Minerva had resorted to the last resource before she would be forced to retire, a resource she usually avoided at all costs: medical exams. How she hated those. Minerva had only looked for healing assistance when she'd found herself in the brink of death, and even still, she did so huffing all the way.

Madam Pomfrey knew that, so the first thing she asked upon encountering the Headmistress in her office was if there had been an accident with the children.

"The students are fine, Poppy. I am not. Get in, and close the door."

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was full with students and regular customers but the girls were able to secure a table at the back of the pub. While they waited for Harry and Ron to arrive, Ginny told Hermione how much she missed her boyfriend, even if they exchanged letters frequently. The brunette witch knew all about that, so she just nodded appropriately while considering if it would be rude to order before the boys' arrival. Hungry as she was, Hermione decided to wait, and it took only a couple more minutes before Ginny's face split into a huge grin. Hermione turned her head to look in the direction her friend was beaming at and sure enough, there were Harry and Ron, looking very strong and grown-up. Auror training was doing them good.

Ginny sprang to her feet and hugged Harry as soon as he approached the table, Hermione hugged Ron too, but it quickly became awkward when he tightened his grip around her too much. The witch stifled a frustrated sigh; Ron seemed to be pretending their last fight never happened. The boys took their seats and everybody ordered butterbeers. Hermione also ordered a sandwich, which gained her a confused look from Ginny.

The four of them chatted happily about training at the Auror Academy and Ginny's increased leadership in the Gryffindor's Quidditch team. To nobody surprise, Hermione continued to be her bookworm self. Soon though, the attentions started to shift. Harry and Ginny couldn't take their eyes off each other; Hermione could feel Ron's intent gaze burn the right side of her face but she herself had her eyes trained on the subtle hues of caramel in the bottom of her mug of butterbeer.

The quartet paid the bill and left the pub and, as was bound to happen, Ginny whisked Harry away under the flimsiest pretext, which allowed Hermione and Ron to wander in awkwardness through Hogsmeade. The witch had hoped the public surroundings and the number of Hogwarts students meandering the streets would prevent any scene between the two of them, but no such luck.

"So, Mione, about that night... you haven't written to me in a while… are you mad at me?"

Hermione looked around, to that beautiful day. The air was crisp, and the sunlight was flattering. Really, a lovely day to enjoy a novel by the Black Lake. Instead, there she was, explaining Ron the obvious.

"Yes, Ron, I am."

"But why? I thought we had worked it out. We only had a misunderstanding."

"There was no misunderstanding! You got into my room, out of nothing, in the middle of the night, and expected us to make out as if it was the most natural thing in the world." – The witch took a deep breath and brought her voice back to a low volume – "And still you got angry when I asked you to go away."

"I just wanted to make a surprise, so we could make up and..."

Hermione's shoulders sagged; the day looked lovely no more. She couldn't believe she was having that conversation again. The mere thought of prolonging that situation, and in the middle of Hogsmead, made her entire body ache. So, she decided she wouldn't do that.

"Ron, we're not making up. It's over, and you know it. I'm going back to the castle now."

Hermione disapparated to the school's gates before Ron could respond.

* * *

After a night of dodging Ginny's questions, Hermione finally made it to her room, where she fell in a fretful sleep only to wake up, hours later, to an odd noise. It was dark, and she remained very still while trying to locate the origin of the sound, at the same time she reached smoothly for the wand under her pillow. If it was an attacker, it was best if they thought she was still asleep.

The sound repeated itself: quick taps on the windowpane, and hooting. An owl, that late in the night?

Hermione lifted her head and looked around; the little clarity to which her eyes had adjusted showed no signs of danger. She approached the window with caution, and there she saw a very professional looking dark owl. The bird outstretched its paw and took off as soon as the witch retrieved the little piece of parchment attached to it. The strip of paper read:

 _Meet me in the Quidditch pitch; we need to talk._ _R._

"What in the fucking hell!"

* * *

Fueled by anger, Hermione made her way to the pitch in record time, and sure enough, there was Ronald waiting for her on the stands, his thick red head illuminated by the feeble moonlight.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" – The young witch shouted as she climbed the seats. – "Didn't you listen to a word I said?"

"I didn't want to go back to Auror Academy leaving things like that, Mione."

"So you go and do exactly what caused the problem in the first place!"

"Sorry if I think we still can make this work."

"How many times do I have to tell you? There's no more 'we'. You agreed with me the night before I boarded the Express that there was no point in maintaining our relationship. We drifted apart."

"I know I did, but I thought better of it. I have it all figured out. If you get a job at the Ministry, we could find a flat in London. I could ask a special permission to be released more often so we could spend the weekends together, and when I complete the training…"

"Ronald, did you remember to ask if I'm willing to? Because I'm not." – He would have to understand that one way or another. – "I'm glad you have your life figured out, but you will have to find someone else who accepts to fit in your domestic fantasy."

"Why are you acting like that? Would you rather waste a year of your life here than to be with me? Didn't we lose enough time in the war?"

"I am _not_ wasting my life. I'm completing my education, I'm pursuing a career."

"That's bullshit! You could take your N.E.W.T.s right now and get a job anywhere you wanted. Stop making excuses."

Hermione felt as if someone had drilled a hole through her chest, leaving her empty. She didn't know what she could be making excuses for, but whatever narrative Ronald had spun in the depths of his head was his to do as he pleased. She was beyond caring. Maybe one day they could savage some semblance of friendship.

The young woman got to her feet and turned to leave without bothering with an answer. A couple steps later, she heard Ronald yelp. Then squeak. When he screamed, she thought maybe she should check on him. The growls and hisses, which clearly weren't produced by Ron, made her turn around after all.

The boy was struggling with something, but she couldn't determine what. The witch got closer but could see little in the dull light, only what appeared to be a tail and iridescent eyes. A feral kneazle, maybe?

"Ron, let me help."

"Get off me!" – The quarrel had intensified, even if the animal seemed small.

Hermione reached for her wand – "Come on, Ron, it's just a kneaz…"

The redhead's groan of pain cut her off and she saw he cradle a hand to his chest. A moment later, a luminous beam left his wand to hit the animal, who was throw over the railing. The creature managed to hang on with its little paws for a split second before falling down.

Hermione ran over to try to cushion its fall but she couldn't see the animal in the dark of the pitch.

"Lumos!"

Her wand shot a jolt of light just in time for the witch to see that wasn't a kneazle, but a cat. When the feline hit the ground before she could help, she learned another thing: that wasn't a cat either, but the animagus form of Headmistress McGonagall, now unconscious due to the crash.

 _Oh, Merlin._


	4. Chapter 4

Professor McGonagall was in the Hospital Wing and she was pissed. She was pissed at herself, at Miss Granger, at damn Mr. Weasley and at Madame Pomfrey for informing her of the disaster occurred the previous night in the Quidditch pitch.

Minerva had a lot of time to think while she rested there half broken, waiting for the Skelegro potion to work on her, and she came to the only sensible conclusion the circumstances allowed.

"Accio quill, accio parchment."

Seconds later she heard a thud on the door.

"Damn", the Headmistress said when she looked to the closed wooden panel. "DAMN", she repeated when she tried to get out of bed to open it and remembered she had several broken bones.

"Minerva, what's happening?", Madame Pomfrey asked as soon as she entered the room, at the same time as she dodged some flying writing utensils coming her way.

"I made a decision, Poppy. I'm resigning", Professor McGonagall answered without looking up from the parchment that just landed on her lap.

"Min, this is insane!", Madame Pomfrey said as she watched her dear friend turn an ordinary quill into a dictaquill and start to relinquish her role as the Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I, Minerva McGonagall…"

"Min."

"…after decades of service…"

"Minnie."

"…for personal reasons I am stepping down of my position as…"

Tired of being ignored, Madame Pomfrey grabbed the dictaquill scratching the parchment and broke it in half in front of an unbelieving Headmistress.

"You are not resigning!" Madame Pomfrey threw the quill pieces to the floor and went for the parchment. "Do you want to run this school into the ground? We lost Albus, the castle was destroyed and now you want to leave?"

"Outraged as you may be, I made up my mind, Poppy. I can't remain here putting the students at risk. Accio quill."

Madame Pomfrey closed the door just in time for the quill to hit it from the outside.

"You put no one at risk."

"I threw Mr. Anderson over…"

"He's perfectly fine."

"And Mr. Weasley…"

"He isn't a student anymore _and_ he trespassed."

"And Miss Granger, I can't keep putting her through this."

"Do you really think Miss Granger, of all people, would want you to resign? I had to threaten her with detention because she refused to leave the Hospital Wing before you woke up."

"It doesn't matter, Poppy. I really think my time here is up. I don't feel up to the task anymore."

The way Minerva's body slouched against the pillows told Madame Pomfrey that her friend wasn't being overly dramatic. The Headmistress was exhausted, and that was no mindset to make harsh decisions.

"Min, let's try at least figure out what's causing these outbursts, if we can't do this, then we'll talk about this idea of… hum, resigning."

Minerva stared at Poppy for a moment, and then acquiesced. Even if everything she said to the medwitch was true, she wasn't really ready to part ways with Hogwarts.

After Poppy left, Minerva closed her eyes and tried to ease her mind. Her quest for peacefulness didn't last long though, because a knock on the door was followed by the entrance of Madame Pomfrey announcing a visitor. Minerva sighed and straightened up on the bed, already preparing herself for the barrage of emotions that was a concerned Filius, but her visitor was someone else.

* * *

"Good evening, Headmistress."

The voice sounded unusually apprehensive. Minerva tilted her head to get a better look at the young witch standing to the right side of her infirmary bed. Hermione looked abated and had dark circles under her eyes. The student took a quick once over of Professor McGonagall blanket covered body and her gaze only grew worried.

"How are you feeling?"

"I have been better, but Madame Pomfrey is doing a wonderful job and I may be cleared in a couple of days.

"I'm glad to hear it", Hermione answered with a small smile, her features lightening a bit.

"Take a sit, please", Professor McGonagall pointed to the wooden chair on which Filius, Pomona and Hooch had taken turns concerned for and/or scolding her that afternoon.

"Miss Granger, I understand that you found me unconscious in the Quidditch pitch… and saved me yet again."

Hermione tried to speak, to say it was nothing of the sort, but Minerva didn't let her.

"It's embarrassing to say this, but I don't remember that night. I have no recollection at all of the accident. Did you see or hear anything when you found me unconscious in the pitch that could shed some light on what happened?"

"But, Professor… You weren't unconscious."

The Headmistress looked like she was being mocked, and Hermione hurried to explain herself before she was hexed.

"I mean, I didn't find you unconscious. When I first saw you, you had climbed the stands to where Ron and I were sitting…"

"…climbed…"

"…but it was dark and I didn't recognize you, I didn't even realize it was a cat at first…"

 _Cat… Oh, yes, this is very much a joke._

"…when the cat fell I tried to catch it, you, but I wasn't fast enough and when you crashed on the ground you turned into you."

Hermione was flushed, Professor McGonagall waited with a stony face until the young witch regained her breath and laughed at her own joke, at which moment Minerva would put her in detention until graduation.

Hermione didn't laugh though, and the Headmistress grew uneasy.

"What are you talking about?"

"You came to Ron and me in your animagus form, don't you remember?"

"Miss Granger, that's not possible."

Minerva hadn't gone to the Quidditch pitch, as a cat or in any other form. In fact, she hadn't turned into her animagus in quite a while. And it wasn't as if she was a sleepwalker, or sleepclimber, oh Merlin!

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked with a pointed glare. Minerva thought about the nerve of the girl, one her finest qualities, yes, but so aggravating in that moment.

"Yes, I am sure. I didn't change into a cat and went to the pitch, and I couldn't have done it unconsciously, animagi don't work like that."

"What about the other times?" the girl asked and Minerva felt a shudder run down her back. _What other times?_

Hermione didn't need to hear the question to sense it.

"The times when you left me gifts, in the middle of the night. They were always covered in fur, so I assumed you did it as a cat."

The Headmistress wasn't listening straight anymore, her head filled with a buzzing sound. Her wide eyes and slack jaw gave away her confusion, but Hermione just carried on.

"I know I should have talked to you about it, but I thought you were aware already and I didn't want to push. You had enough problems to deal with."

With great effort, Minerva was able to ask:

"Gifts?"

"Yes, I mean, little things, but I could feel they were important to you, so I thought you knew what was happening."

"What have I…", the Headmistress had to pause to regain some composure, "…supposedly gave you?"

"Oh, you know, a brooch…", Minerva raised one eyebrow at that, "some Holyhead Harpies cards, your Gryffindor scarf…"

"WHAT?"

Hermione had been waiting a bad reaction, but few times in her life had she heard the Headmistress raise her voice.

"And why, Miss Granger, would I have given you such personal items?"

"Because they soothe me?"

The nerve was gone; Hermione's answer came in a low, ashamed voice, the girl's body shrunk against the back of the chair. Minerva's hands clenched at the sight, and it hurt.

"I haven't been sleeping well these days, what with Ron, and nightmares and concern about yo… this situation. And since every time your magic went astray I was also distressed I thought it made sense that these occurrences were related."

Minerva was so sorry, and guilty. She had been so inconsiderate of Hermione's feelings in all of that mess. Everybody was working so hard to rebuild the school, their relationships and the wizarding society that Minerva forgot a big part of that strength was a façade, she, who had been doing exactly the same thing for three wars.

"Miss Granger", Minerva had to cough to mask her choked voice, "you don't need my scarf."

The girl's eyes went wide as cauldrons.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I'm so sorry. I was going to return it; I never intended to keep it!"

Minerva couldn't slap herself in the face, but had she been able to people would've heard the smack the other side of the door.

"What I mean, Miss Granger, is that you don't need to rely on an old scarf for comfort. Whenever you feel distressed, or are unable to sleep, you can talk to me."

Hermione looked skeptical for a few seconds, but then she relaxed. The tension on her shoulders eased, the crease on her forehead disappeared and her body just seemed to loosen up. It was a beautiful thing to see. Then she smiled, an open, bright smile, and Minerva rectified her initial impression: now _that_ was a beautiful sight to see.

"Now, as for a possible link between my magic and your mood", _even as I think there might be some merit to it_ , "I have to say you are mistaken. There have been other incidents, unrelated to you, so, as burdensome as it was, what happened between us was just a coincidence."

"Professor, I really think…"

"Now, Miss Granger, I think it is best for both of us to get some rest."

Hermione looked defeated, but covered it up fast. She said her goodnights and get-wells, and retreated out the door.

Inside the room, Minerva couldn't help but feel she had badly misstepped.

* * *

 **AN: I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me (and who could blame you)**


End file.
